So first and foremost I think an apology is in order. Sorry, guys. I'm not dead, this story isn't abandoned, and please don't kill me. I was already punished enough by my friends.

They STOLE my BED.

Queue: Actuallyyyy, it was your mattress.
Fluffy: THAT'S NOT THE POINT. You did this. Not alone, but you did this.

It sounds fake, and I wish I was joking. Oh, they gave it back pretty quickly, but still. The jump from chips to bed is a pretty big one.

Second, I'd like to clarify a couple of things as far as the timelines go. For the YouTubers, this takes place in late 2016. For Hamilton, this takes place after "Cabinet Battle One." For the Supernatural gang, this takes place in early season twelve, after "Celebrating the Life of Asa Fox." For the Doctor Who gang, this takes place after "Midnight" in late season four. For Sherlock and John, it takes place after "The Abominable Bride." For Merlin and Arthur, this takes place between season four and season five. For Peter, Loki, and Thor, this takes place after Civil War, but before Spider-Man: Homecoming.

Now, as many of you know, Thor: Ragnarok (if you haven't seen it, you're missing out) takes place during Civil War. Which means that in this fic, Thor (SPOILERS) is currently down on one eye.

Because of this, I went back to my previous chapters and edited them to make Thor have only one eye, and I also fixed some grammatical errors. All these changes were pretty minor though, and you don't need to reread anything to understand what's going on.

Once again, I have to thank you for all of the nice comments and kudos. They really brighten my day :)

And to the Guest that presented the Behind the Scenes idea. . . I quite like that.

Enjoy!


Chapter 7

Dan had never wanted to be a boy scout.

He had simply had no interest in it. When his parents had asked him, Dan declined without a second thought, choosing instead to take piano lessons and increase his childhood experiences by participating in more creative activities. He more or less ignored all of the activities that required more than a minimal amount of physical exertion, boy scouts included. Sure, there were a few times when he wished he could start a fire with a stick or whittle a wooden sculpture with nothing but a pocket knife, but he had never regretted his decision to pass on boy scouts.

Until today.

Here he was, wandering in the middle of an island jungle with a bunch of strangers, without a single skill to offer them as an incentive for not eating him if the food supplies got low. He couldn't build a fire, hunt, construct a shelter using nothing but sticks and leaves, tame wild bears, or whatever else taking boy scouts would've enabled him to do. If this was going to go like any story he'd read or video game he'd played, someone on his team was definitely going to go homicidal. And considering that his team consisted of at least two people he knew for a fact had actually committed homicide, he knew his chances of survival were much lower than the average video game protagonist.

You've barely been walking with these guys for a minute and you're already thinking about the inevitability of your death at their hands, Dan thought, chastising himself. Phil would tell him to be more optimistic. After all, he had Donna, Captain Jack, Arthur, Castiel, and John. There were people far more inclined to murder on other teams than his. Plus, surely his mind was the only one with manslaughter on the forefront.

Dan glanced to his side, where Castiel was being half-carried by John and Captain Jack, giving an occasional grunt of pain. Perhaps there were more important things he should be worried about.

"This is insane," John muttered under his breath. Dan was glad to know he wasn't the only one harboring that opinion.

"You're telling me," Donna huffed. "A year ago I wouldn't even considered that any of this," she gestured vaguely around her, "was even possible."

John narrowed his eyes. "So you're not. . . alien?" He seemed to choke on the word, as if he was still have trouble believing the Doctor was real. Dan didn't blame him.

Donna shook her head. "Me? God, no. I'm just a temp from Chiswick."

Jack perked up at this. "So how'd you meet the Doctor? You know a Martha, by any chance?"

"Oh, yeah! I met her a couple weeks ago, during the whole Sauntaran thing. As for the Doctor. . . well, I was at a wedding—my wedding—walking down the aisle when I was zapped into the TARDIS. Apparently, my fiancé had been dosing me with these particles or whatever and wanted to feed me to this- this giant spider thing. It's a long story." Donna waved dismissively. Dan was relieved he actually understood what she was talking about; judging by the others' faces, they weren't following her at all. "How about you?"

"I met him in the forties. The nineteen forties," Jack clarified. "I was a time agent before they kicked me out into the second world war. I met the Doctor during the Blitz. A whole lot happened since then, and now I work with Tor-" Jack broke himself off, briefly glancing towards the rest of the group. "Well, it's a government thing. Sort of."

Donna looked as if she was about to say something, when Castiel unexpectedly spoke up. "You are far too young to have been alive during the Blitz," he stated, staring at Jack with his head tilted to the side.

"I look good for my age, don't I?" Jack grinned. John cleared his throat.

"Well you two clearly know something about aliens. They have to be behind this, right?"

Donna and Jack exchanged a glance. Jack frowned. "It's most likely aliens. Not the Daleks though, this isn't something they'd do. This isn't exactly the Cybermen's brand of humor either-"

"Dalek? Cybermen?" Arthur interjected. "Are these the 'aliens' you keep speaking of?" He looked towards Jack, his brow furrowed and lip curled in confusion.

Jack waved his hand dismissively. "Oh, they're basically just creatures from space. Outer space. There's a ton of different species, planets, civilizations, and all of that fun stuff." Jack turned back to Donna, leaving Arthur looking slightly miffed that he was disregarded so quickly. "Who else could it be?"

"Vashta Nerada?" Donna suggested.

"No, they lack the technology. Time Lords?"

"Aren't they all extinct?"

"Well- yeah, I guess you're right."

What about weeping angels? Dan wondered. Could they have zapped them all back in time to this one moment? But he couldn't exactly make the suggestion without revealing that he knew more than he let on. Dan decisively bit his tongue, keeping his mouth shut.

"What about magical creatures?" Arthur spoke up. "Like a warlock, witch, or fairy?"

John glanced towards Donna and Jack, as if dreading they'd confirm Arthur's suggestion.

Jack pursed his lips. "Remember how I said time travel was involved earlier?"

Arthur nodded.

"Well in the future, most of that medieval magical stuff is considered to have been aliens. Or over exaggeration. Most often the second."

Arthur raised his eyebrows, letting out a small, humorless laugh. "I've witnessed witchcraft in front of my very eyes. I've had friends murdered by magic and have experienced firsthand the awful effects sorcery can have on people's lives. Don't tell me that all of my experiences were either 'over-exaggerated' or just due to some creatures from outer space."

Jack opened his mouth to reply, but seemingly changed his mind, instead pressing his lips together in a thin line. Dan paused. Maybe Arthur was right. If they really we're dealing with the multiple universes that these characters were from, perhaps aliens shouldn't be the only possible suspects on the list of people—or things—behind this.

"He has a point."

It took a moment for Dan to realize he spoke out loud, and he nearly jumped when he realized that everyone's eyes were on him. Dan swallowed. "I mean, think about it. This obviously has to be some kind of parallel universe thing, right? Like, there's aliens where you're from," he gestured to Donna and Jack, "magical stuff where Arthur's from, and practically nothing where I'm from. I honestly have no idea why I've been deemed interesting enough to be thrown into this mess." Dan let out a nervous laugh.

To his relief, Castiel nodded slowly. "That's understandable. Where I'm from, there's an abundance of creatures with mythical origins, yet no. . . aliens." Like John, Castiel seemed to struggle with the word. "And I've encountered a dimension a few years ago that sounds a lot like yours."

"So you've ran into a dull and boring dimension before?" Dan huffed, but continued before Castiel could reply. "But yeah, what I'm saying is that if we know that there's both aliens and magical stuff, then it would be unwise to rule all of the magical stuff out. I mean, there has to be some magic involved in this, right?"

John glanced at Castiel then turned to Jack, eyes narrowed questioningly. "Do aliens and sci-fi explain a bullet coming out of nowhere to hit its target?"

Jack gave a small shrug. "Maybe we didn't see the shooter?"

"I'm a soldier. I know where to look."

Jack didn't reply. Dan cleared his throat. "Personally, I think magic could've had something to do with that. Obviously that bullet must've had some kind of witchcraft on it, otherwise it wouldn't of been able to hurt an- an-" Dan fumbled when he noticed Castiel's gaze shift to him, and the angel's eyes narrowed ever so slightly that Dan could of imagined it.

"-an individual among so many other people. Like it would've been hard to shoot at Castiel without some kind of magic since there was so many of us there," Dan finished lamely. Although he deliberately avoided looking in Castiel's direction, he could feel his eyes boring into him.

Shit. He'd messed up, he messed up- fuck. Castiel knew what he was going to say- he knew that Dan knew way more than he was letting on. He literally had one job. He took a deep breath, trying to slow his racing heartbeat. No one else could've caught on. Besides, maybe Castiel didn't even pick up on it. Maybe Dan was just overreacting and Castiel was just staring at him for some other reason—after all, he did stare a lot, didn't he? And even if Dan just displayed terrible knowledge regarding how picking a target works, that didn't mean that he accidentally revealed any hidden information, right?

John stared at Dan and furrowed his brow. "He literally stepped forward and loudly announced his presence. No offense," John added to Castiel.

Dan shrugged helplessly. "It was all a bit of a blur for me."

"Oi! Up here!"

Dan turned, looking ahead to see Donna standing at the end of the trail, pointing down into a clearing, dark with shadows due to the slowly sinking sun. Dan frowned, quickening his pace to get a better view. Arthur jogged to catch up, as John and Captain Jack approached more slowly as they helped support Castiel.

Inside the clearing was an ample stack of wood and other various supplies, nothing at all resembling what he had in his home back in Britain. Dan let out a small sigh. He glanced towards Donna, whose lip was curled in obvious disdain.

Same.

Donna frowned and proceeded to bend down to the forest floor, and stood up with a small, neatly folded note in her hands. All eyes were on her as she scanned the parchment.

"I guess we're staying here tonight," Donna said with an obvious lack of enthusiasm. She held out the note to Jack, who let out a long breath after reading it.

"Well then," Jack began, "let's get setting up."


Dan—to no one's surprise, least of all his own—couldn't sleep.

While Dan was so physically exhausted from helping set up "camp" that he was surprised he had the energy to shift in his sorry excuse for a bed at all, he couldn't manage to keep his eyes closed for much longer than ten seconds. Although that was to be expected when surrounded by strangers with known murderous tendencies, if he were to be honest, the main reason he remained awake was undoubtedly the bugs. Just when he thought he killed the last one, another would appear out of nowhere and demand his attention. But even that wasn't as bad as the occasional minutes of a sudden, mysterious lack of bugs. After smacking what had to be his twentieth mosquito, Dan decided that enough was enough. He carefully pushed himself off his makeshift shelter, trying and failing to prevent the wood from creaking. He brushed himself off, wrinkling his nose in distaste when he noticed that another mosquito had latched on before he swatted it off. For the first time in his life, a walk through a jungle seemed appealing.

Quietly, he maneuvered through the camp, grateful for the moon's bright glow. He spotted a pathway through the trees, the branches waving invitingly. Dan paused. He was about to walk into a cryptic dark forest at night. Alone. If that didn't sound like something straight out of a horror movie, he didn't know what did. He glanced back at the camp, noting an angel, an immortal guy from the future, and King Arthur himself asleep on their cots. Dan decided he'd risk the horror movie cliché; he needed to think. He needed to breathe. Decisively, he trod into the forest, refusing to look back.

The trees were tall and thick, creating a canopy that allowed in just the right amount of moonlight for him to see. Despite the leaves hiding most of the sky, he could still perceive more stars than the clearest night back in Britain. The night sky here was hues of blacks, blues, and purples, with stars everywhere, not unlike glitter on an abstract painting. Dan desperately wished he had his phone with him to capture the image, and record a short video of the moonbeams dancing as the leaves waved above.

It really is beautiful out here, he thought to himself. The moon was bright and full, bathing the foliage in a pale light. Dan frowned. Although he wasn't one to actively follow the lunar schedule, he was pretty positive that the moon wasn't anywhere near as full last night. Dan studied the sky with narrowed eyes. Where is the Big Dipper? It was one of the few constellations he knew how to find, but it was nowhere in sight.

With weather and a jungle like this, he should be close enough to the equator for the Big Dipper to be visible, no matter what time of the year it was.

I should tell someone about this. Dan turned, suddenly aware of how far he had wandered from camp. But as long as he followed the trail back, he should be-

Snap.

Dan froze.

Slowly, he turned around, tensing and half expecting some monster to jump out from behind him. Nothing.

He swore he had heard a branch snap. He carefully scanned his surroundings, peering through the underbrush. Nothing.

Dan quickened his pace, eager to get back to camp before someone—or something—got him.

Snap.

Dan glanced behind him, not stopping. Still nothing. He swallowed, putting on speed.

Snap.

He broke into a sprint and swerved off the trail, desperate to get away. No matter how this ended up, he was not going to let himself be the first one to die. After running a good twenty meters, he realized he lacked a pursuer. He skidded to a halt, his heart racing, panting as the adrenaline wore off. Dan stiffened, scanning his surroundings. While he was relieved that no shadowy figures crossed his vision, it didn't take long for it to register that he could no longer see the trail he had taken to get here. Dan sighed, rubbing the nape of his neck. He could either wait until it was lighter out, or wander and hope that he would stumble upon the trail or the camp. Neither prospect seemed desirable.

Without warning, a figure burst out of the underbrush, slamming Dan backwards into the trunk of a tree.

Dan gasped, too shocked to struggle against his attacker's firm grip as he was pinned against the tree. The attacker shifted, his face illuminated in the moonlight for barely a moment, but it was enough.

"How do you know I'm an angel?" Castiel demanded, grabbing Dan's shirt collar in his fist.

"W-what?" he gasped out.

"Earlier," he growled, "you wanted to know how the bullet could have hurt me if I was an 'individual among so many other people.' You meant to say angel."

Fuck.

Dan forced out a laugh, trying to keep his clammy palms from trembling. "You're not an- an angel. That would be ridiculous. No way would an angel-"

Dan was cut off when Castiel's knuckles collided with his cheek.

"Don't play games with me," Castiel snapped. "Who are you!? Do you work for the British Men of Letters?"

Dan ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek, tasting the metallic tang of blood. He turned and spat, hearing it splatter on the forest floor. Dan attempted to struggle out of Castiel's grasp, but his grip only tightened. He looked back towards the angel, his eyes wide. "Fu- you just punched me in the face!"

Castiel pulled his fist back, ready to strike, his blue eyes cold. "Stop!" Dan protested, tensing as he closed his eyes and turned his head to the side. "Please. . ."

When the blow didn't come, Dan opened an eye to see Castiel's arm lowered, but his grip on Dan didn't slack. Thinking fast, Dan gasped out, "Listen—there are two ways this can go. Either you torture me, I scream, and everyone comes out here wondering what you're doing over poor Dan's dead body, or-" he took a breath "-we have a mutually beneficial conversation like the rational adults we are."

Castiel narrowed his eyes. He paused, staring intensely at him, studying him, as if determining if he was telling the truth. Dubious, the angel released him, causing Dan to stumble forward and fall. Castiel didn't offer him a hand.

"Who do you work for?" he questioned.

"Nobody!" Dan exclaimed. "Well, Youtube I suppose. I make YouTube videos. But I certainly don't associate with these- these 'Men of Letters,' whoever they are, or any other cults for that matter."

Castiel frowned. "Then how do you know that I'm an angel?"

Dan laughed nervously. "I never said you were an angel. I mean, even if that were true, you probably shouldn't go around advertising it to random-" he broke off as Castiel approached, tight-lipped and hands clenched at his sides. Dan scrambled back, his hand up in surrender. "Okay, okay!"

He took a deep breath. Dan didn't want to risk lying to a pissed off holy warrior's face, but he also had no desire to explain the Supernatural tag on Tumblr, or his complicated half-formed multiverse theory. He glanced towards Castiel, seeing his patience wearing thin. Dan exhaled slowly.

"You may or may not be a topic of interest on an online social media platform due to your depiction on a television series."

Castiel's eyes widened, and to Dan's relief, his fists unclenched. "You're from the universe with Misha Collins."

Dan blinked. "You- you know Misha?" He nodded.

"Sam and Dean told me about him. Although I don't know why—if you're from two thousand sixteen—the televised portrayal of myself would be a topic of interest, considering Misha Collins' death."

Dan blinked. "Misha died?"

"In two thousand eleven."

Dan narrowed his eyes. ". . . No he didn't."

Castiel frowned, and Dan could practically see the cogs turning in his head. "So what you're saying is that there's a universe where everything is the same to the one I know of, but Misha Collins is alive?"

"So what you're telling me is that there's a universe where everything is the same as mine but Misha Collins is dead?"

The corner of Castiel's mouth twitched upward. "If you know about me, what do you know about Sam and Dean?"

Dan paused, trying to recall as much as he could from his dashboard and the one random conversation with ChimpBot he'd had about Supernatural. "Not a lot. I know that they're brothers, died a lot, and have daddy issues." He shrugged. "And a lot of people cry over a gif of a trenchcoat in a lake. I'm not sure what that's about. I know more about the other people here, actually. Not really anything too useful, but I knew that the Doctor was an alien, so." Dan pushed himself to his feet, wincing as his cheek flushed in pain as the blood rushed to his head.

"By the way, it's nice to see that your shoulder's healing up so quickly," Dan remarked, not even attempting to keep the sarcasm from his voice as he rubbed his bruised cheek.

Guilt flashed across Castiel's face as the angel proceeded to reach forward, pressing two fingers against Dan's forehead. Dan winced as white-hot pain fogged his vision, but once it quickly faded, the throbbing on his cheek had went with it. Even the taste of the blood in his mouth had vanished. Dan looked at Castiel with wide eyes.

"Angel powers," he explained curtly. For a moment, Dan wondered if he had healed him as a way of apologizing, or if he was trying to get rid of the evidence that Dan was ever injured in the first place. He shook his head, pushing the thought away.

"So," Dan paused, "how about you don't tell everyone that I know a bunch of random trivia facts about them and I don't tell anyone that you're an angel, yeah?"

Castiel nodded. "That seems agreeable." The angel then looked up through the canopy, frowning. "Dawn will come soon. We should start heading back." Rather abruptly, Castiel turned and began making his way through the forest. Dan had to jog to catch up, not eager to be left alone, lost out here. Dan glanced up at the sky, briefly pondering how Castiel could tell that dawn would come soon if the sky looked exactly the same as an hour ago. Speaking of the sky. . .

"Oh! Right!" Dan exclaimed suddenly, turning to Castiel. "So you know the Big Dipper?"

Castiel didn't even look in his direction. "I was there when it was created."

"Yeah, well, it's gone."

Without warning, Castiel stopped in his tracks, causing Dan to barely avoid stumbling into him. The angel stared up at the sky, eyes narrowed. "That doesn't happen to mean anything. . . apocalyptic, does it?" Dan queried. To his relief, Castiel shook his head.

"No. . ."

Dan could practically hear the unspoken "but." He frowned. For some reason, this reminded him of something. It was dark and the stars were different, and for whatever reason, that was familiar. Dan racked his brain, searching for the connection.

"Oh!" Dan snapped. "That one episode!" Castiel turned to him with a frown.

"With the Daleks, Davros, and all of the companions-" Dan broke off upon noticing Castiel's puzzled expression. "Basically, the Earth was moved from the solar system to this other place to help make a Reality Bomb thing- and everyone was freaking out because the sky had suddenly went dark. Well, and because of the Reality Bomb."

"Are you suggesting that Earth has moved?" Castiel asked incredulously.

"No. But maybe we have." Dan gave a small shrug. "Maybe this isn't even Earth."

"Maybe," Castiel said, but he looked doubtful.

Dan huffed. "Well you're the one with cosmic knowledge. What do you think this is? Who do you think's behind it?"

Castiel paused. "I think I know who it's not. It's not an angel; Gabriel or I would've sensed it if it was. Lucifer and Michael would be the only ones powerful enough to do this, and I can't imagine that either of them could want to."

"Great. So it's not Satan. Any idea of who it is?"

Castiel cast him a quick glare. "There are tons of variables to consider. At this point it, it could be a witch, a demon, a djinn, a pagan—I don't have enough information."

"Or it could be aliens," Dan pointed out. "Or maybe demon-aliens. There aren't demon-aliens, are there?"

Castiel didn't reply. At first Dan was afraid that this was a confirmation, but then he realized that they were almost upon the clearing. Finally able to see past the trees, Dan realized that the angel was right; the horizon was tainted orange, signalling the coming of dawn. So much for getting sleep tonight.

Dan took a step forward to climb down into the clearing, but was held back by a firm hold on his arm. He turned to see Castiel staring at him, then turned to point at a piece of parchment snagged on a branch no more than a meter in front of him. Dan frowned, reaching up to grab the paper as Castiel stiffened and glanced around. "We're being watched," he said under his breath.

"What?" Dan breathed, scanning his surroundings. He didn't see anyone, but then again, his track record for watching for followers wasn't the best.

"Someone intended for us to find this. Did you tell anyone you'd be going on this trail?" Slowly, Dan shook his head. He looked down to the unassuming note in his hands, and carefully unfolded it.

'This morning, before the sun reaches its peak, your team is to follow the northern path from your camp. Further instructions will be given once you arrive.'

Dan swallowed, passing the note to the angel. Castiel frowned as his eyes scanned the parchment, before he folded it up and placed it in the pocket of his trenchcoat. He turned, exchanging a glance with Dan. Slowly, Castiel let out a long breath. "I'll alert the others. You should rest while you can."

Dan opened his mouth to protest, but then closed it as he considered Castiel's words. Although his chances of getting rest were slim to none, he had no idea what he might face come morning. A little bit of sleep could be helpful. "So- so I guess I'll just. . ." Dan stuttered, slowly backing away. "I'll just- so you can, uh," he gestured vaguely with his arms, "do whatever. . ." Dan cut himself off, precipitately spinning around on his heels and proceeding to speed walk back to the clearing. He could feel Castiel's eyes boring into him as he walked back, but he forced himself to keep his gaze forward and press on.

But perhaps it wasn't just Castiel that Dan felt watching him. If Castiel was right, then he never really was alone during his stroll in the woods, excluding the presence of Castiel himself. Although being trailed by an angel was not an experience he'd like to repeat, at least Castiel was tangible and there. He definitely preferred it to being observed by some unknown omnipresent. . . thing. He probably was being watched now. Some force was watching him, waiting to attack him like it attacked Castiel if he were to step out of line. And for whatever reason, Dan got the vibe that he was a bit more. . . well, expendable than Castiel. He shuddered, trying his best to push the subject to the back of his mind.

Dan wandered up to his bed, looking down upon it with a contemptuous sigh. In hindsight, his little walk had the opposite effect he intended; no way would he get any sleep with all of this excess adrenaline in his veins. Nevertheless, he carefully lowered himself onto the bed, attempting to shift into a comfortable position without making the wood creak.

He ended up on his back, silently staring into an unfamiliar sky.


Whelp, I hope I manage to get the next chapter out in less than nine months. Heh heh heh. . .